


fourteen billion years ago, expansion started...wait.

by openended



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex, Phone Calls & Telephones, Physics, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been holding back a little in deference to not making her come while on the phone with Rodney McKay, but now all bets are off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fourteen billion years ago, expansion started...wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: kitchen, physics

She’s having a conversation about…something. Jack can’t really tell what it is, only that it’s interrupting her vacation and it’s science-y and it’s going to take at least three hours to sort out. When she boots up her laptop and mouths _sorry_ at him, he shrugs and smiles and waves her off. They’re less crucial to the fate of the planet than they were even three years ago, having trained and taught and supervised and otherwise ensured that the new crop of SGC command staff would know which way is up even during a failure of local gravity; but sometimes there are questions and problems and crises that only a phone call to someone who was there from the very beginning can solve.

He pours himself a mug of coffee and, after a moment’s thought, refills her mug as well. He reaches over her shoulder and sets it next to her laptop and catches a glimpse of her laptop screen.

“Wow,” he says. Whatever the problem is, it looks like a giant mess.

“No,” Sam says, firmly convinced, “gravity doesn’t work that way. Provided that the planet has a stable, regular orbit, which it does, its gravitational force should be constant across the entire planet. Gravity doesn’t fluctuate on a planetary level like that. There has to be something else at work.” 

She blinks at the screen for a moment and watches what Jack assumes is a graphical representation of the scientist’s observations. He hears the person on the other end of the line talking, but can’t quite make out the words.

“What you’re telling me can’t _possibly_ be a natural phenomenon. Why? Because _physics,_ that’s why, Rodney. You should know this.”

Once Jack realizes that McKay is involved in this, he decides to be elsewhere. The other room, outside, a couple miles down the road in town picking up supplies they don’t really need, anywhere but the kitchen. He gives it five minutes before the thing turns into an argument about experimental versus theoretical physicists and whose work is more important. 

He returns to the cabin an hour later, truck loaded up with groceries they’re almost out of, and the argument has turned into a full-fledged shouting match about supersymmetry and stop quarks and something called a wino, which apparently means something very different in Sam’s world than it does his.

“No! It is _not_ the ultimate solution to gauge coupling unification. There are several suggested theories to solve that particular question and it makes absolutely no sense because one of its problems is that superpartners are heavier than their corresponding standard model particles. Why is that a problem? _Why?_ Because if they were heavier than their standard model counterparts, we would’ve seen _some_ existence of them by now. Explain to me how we can observe a top quark without any difficulty at all but haven’t even seen a hint of a stop quark.”

Jack quietly puts the groceries away while watching her reaction. To anyone else, she’d seem angry and mad and about ready to fly to Colorado to personally rip McKay’s head off. But he knows that she’s enjoying the argument, that it gives her an excuse to talk about science to someone who understands what she’s talking about without requiring her to dumb it down a couple of PhD levels. She spends most of her days now trying to convince everyone in Washington why they still need to fund the Stargate program in full and not cut a single penny, and there are nights she comes home so frustrated by how simplified everyone needs things that he lets her talk to him about gravitons and tachyon radiation and the theoretical appliations for both in words as big as she wants.

He’s learned that listening to her talk turns him on. A _lot._ He gets an idea.

“Rodney, I conceded your point a long time ago. You failed to state, at the beginning of the conversation, that their moon was volcanic and on the verge of breaking apart. I still disagree that that would have any noticeable effect on the gravity on the planet, but it _would_ massively affect tides and winds and quite possibly spin. Can we move on to the actual problem now?”

Jack frowns. If they haven’t hit the actual problem by now – which, according to the half of the conversation he can hear, involves the moon actually exploding and wreaking havoc on the planet below – it’ll be midnight before she gets off the phone. She stands up to put her mug in the sink and he catches her around the waist.

Sam skips a breath but continues on with her sentence, debating escape velocity of an object with ever-changing mass. She closes her eyes as Jack’s lips rest against her neck and his fingers tease the skin just above her jeans. She was never particularly interested in this conversation with McKay and she isn’t even technically needed for it (though she suspects he needs the premise of talking to someone else to cover up the fact that he’s really just thinking out loud), but she can’t find a way to get him off the phone. Jack’s fingers pop the button on her jeans and slowly tease the zipper down.

“Stay on the phone,” he whispers into the ear she doesn’t have the phone pressed to.

Sam blinks in surprise – expecting the exact opposite request – but feels a rush of heat between her legs when slides his hands up underneath her tank top and pulls away just enough to tug the shirt over her head. Her bra quickly follows and she feels completely ridiculous, standing in the kitchen topless while talking with Rodney McKay about how to tow an exploding moon out of planetary orbit…at least until Jack’s fingers find her nipples.

She gasps.

“What? No, nothing’s wrong. Anyway, why don’t we just relocate everyone?” She figures that question should keep him occupied long enough for her to figure out what Jack’s trying to do. Besides drive her crazy.

Jack cups her breast with one hand, rubbing her nipple until it tightens under his touch, and slips the other into her pants. He gently cups her and teases her with one finger through her underwear until she gets fed up and cradles the phone between her ear and her shoulder and shimmies her jeans down to the floor and steps out of them. Jack notices that she didn’t bother to keep her panties on.

“This is all hypothetical anyway, Rodney.” She winks at Jack, having caught on to his plan, and hops up on the counter. “We don’t have anything to drag the moon out of the way and if we did, it might cause more problems than letting it fall apart naturally.” She reaches out with one foot and drags a chair in front of her and then spreads her legs, giving Jack the greatest view in two galaxies. 

Jack knows an invitation when he sees it, and sits down on the chair. He cups his hands over her thighs and spreads them wider. He darts his tongue out to taste her. Apart from a slight intake of breath, there’s no indication that she’s at all ruffled by this. He slides one finger inside of her and swirls his tongue around her clit.

“Why are you so concerned about moving the moon away? Why not let it break apart in orbit, part of it might, ah,” she closes her eyes, “stay solid and leave them with at least some moon to control tides and wind and keep their spin constant.”

Jack adds another finger and turns his palm upward, curling his fingers so they hit the spot that makes her whimper and beg for more.

“No, most of the debris would burn up in the atmosphere. It sounds like their moon’s been doing this for a while and only recently had a quake large enough to start the chain reaction necessary to dis- _oh_ -integrate.” She moves the phone away from her mouth while McKay disputes her point, and moans quietly. “ _No_ , I didn’t say that. The gravitational field of the moon is probably enough on its own to keep the moon from exploding impressively, it would probably be a slow…” she huffs as Rodney cuts her off mid-sentence.

Jack adds a third finger and sucks her clit into his mouth.

“Jesus,” she whispers. “What? No, _not you_. And you know what, I don’t even know why you called me about this. Evacuate the planet, move on with your day. That’s an order. Bye.” She ends the call and sets the phone next to her.

Jack’s always amazed, and not a little bit turned on, by how determined she can be when something’s getting in the way of her orgasm. He grins against her and twists his fingers. He had been holding back a little in deference to not making her come while on the phone with Rodney McKay, but now all bets are off. 

She bites her lip and moans and tangles her fingers in his hair, holding his head in place against her. She braces her other hand behind her on the counter, knocking over an empty water glass as she searches for balance. “God, Jack,” she manages to murmur and tries to spread her legs even wider for him.

He smiles and flicks his tongue across her clit and pushes a little harder with his fingers. And when she comes, hard, with a desperate moan that drives straight to his own groin, he’s very, very glad that she hung up the phone. 

He backs off, slowly, and finally pushes away from the counter, letting her legs dangle onto the cabinets below.

She smiles and leans forward to kiss him. “You,” she says against his lips, “are evil.”

Jack shrugs and tries to look innocent, despite that he just had his face between her legs. “You didn’t seem too interested in whatever that was,” he points at the phone.

She huffs and glares at the phone before sliding off the counter. Her legs are a little unsteady, but she catches herself. She looks down at Jack and notices the telltale bulge in his pants and offers him her hand, intending to take care of that in the bedroom.

“So,” Jack says, catching her hand and following her, “what’s a wino?”

Sam stops in the doorway to their bedroom and turns to face him. “You really want me to talk about hypothetical superpartner particles _now?_ ”

He raises one eyebrow. It never fails to amaze him that she is totally unaware of how hot she is when she’s naked and sounding smart. He swears that his cock twitched when she said _hypothetical superpartner particles._

“Well,” Sam starts, taking the step back to him, “superpartners are a requirement of supersymmetry theory.” She deftly unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders onto the floor. “The problem with supersymmetry is that none of the required particles,” she unbuckles his belt and his pants quickly join his shirt, “have actually been observed, which is what I was yelling about. Without observation,” she walks him back to the bed and playfully pushes him backward, “the symmetry is broken…” she trails off when he puts a finger on her lips.

“Sam. What’s a wino?” He likes listening to her talk about physics when she isn’t wearing any clothes, but if she starts at the beginning, she’ll probably stop to get her laptop and possibly a chart.

“Right,” she says and crawls over him, “a wino,” she kisses him, “is the superpartner of the W boson, which is one of the particles,” she drags her tongue across his neck and blows a stream of air across the wet skin, “that allows the weak force to exist.” 

Jack shudders underneath her and can’t help it when his hands come up across her back to trace her shoulders. “And the weak force is?” 

She slowly makes her way down his chest, her hands and fingers mapping designs and equations across his skin that her lips kiss away. “The weak force,” she hooks her fingers into the band of his boxers, “controls radioactive decay of subatomic particles and, more importantly to me, at least,” she drags his boxers down his legs, “initiates hydrogen fusion in stars.” With one smooth movement, she takes his cock into her mouth.

 _Oh._ Any cares he had left about what the hell a wino is went completely out the window.


End file.
